


The Second

by Makkoska



Series: The Second [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Founder's area, Incest, M/M, Oneshot, Tobirama centric, Unrequited Love, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 06:18:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1540754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makkoska/pseuds/Makkoska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are certain things given, like his love for Hashirama or his brother’s love for Madara, and as hard as he tries, Tobirama is never able to change them. Hashirama/Tobirama and off-screen Hashirama/Madara</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Second

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a Hashirama/Tobirama fic for a while now. As there’s apparently no way around Madara, this got way longer and sadder than I intended it to be. Heed the warnings please before reading.
> 
> Warnings: for a lot of things. Incest, yaoi, angst, unrequited love, canon character death.

 

Watching over his brother - that’s something Tobirama does ever since he can remember. Hashirama is the older and stronger, yes, but he’s the smarter. The one who thinks before acting, the one who weighs all possibilities before making a decision. Hashirama needs him for that, to keep him on the ground when he wants to soar with his impossible dreams and to watch the people around with suspicion where the other would trust blindly.

 

It’s a habit, his second nature that starts when he’s eight and fights his first life and death battle.  He’ll be able to recall the fear even decades later, the way his hands shake despite all the training he received before, how clammy his palms are on the handle of his blade, the smell of blood that makes him sick. It wouldn’t take much to die that day, to become one of the unnumbered corpses on the battlefield, one of the many sons who never return and soon be forgotten by everyone.

 

It’s Hashirama who saves him. He’s eleven at the time, and already through many battles. He protects him, looks over him and when it's over, embraces him when he cries. Wipes his face clean with his sleeve, so their father won’t see the strikes of tears through the dirt and blood that covers it and tells him on hushed tones that it’s now over and everything’s going to be all right.

 

Tobirama decides that day that he’s going to return the favour. Hashirama is the oldest of them, it isn’t fair that he has nobody to lean on to. Decides that he’ll be there always, watching his back. It becomes apparent early on that Hashirama has the more talent and might - has more than anyone in their clan, but the younger boy still helps where he can - stepping between his brother and their father when an argument gets out of hand, stands next to him in battle, talks about a better future afterwards. Hashirama is led by his emotions - he’s a great shinobi even so young, but _feeling_ so much is a grave mistake, it makes him vulnerable. So Tobirama always tries to keep a cool head to balance it, to repress his own emotions to be able to make the right decisions for both of them. That works well, they become a great team in fight. It’s years later when he realizes that it also built a wall between them.

 

When Kawarama dies, Tobirama forces himself to remain calm. Hashirama is so desperate and angry - at their father, at the mad world around them and maybe at himself as well, for not being able to protect him. Then in half a year Itama dies too.

 

That’s where it all goes to hell.

 

Hashirama starts to disappear for long hours. That makes the white haired boy feel very lonely - it’s now just the two of them, and he expected his brother to need him more than ever. He certainly misses him a lot. But he thinks that he needs some space to himself, time alone to grieve.

 

And it seems to be doing the trick - Hashirama’s mood certainly improves, he’s smiling a lot again. He jokes with Tobirama when they are together, ruffles his hair, which the younger boy always pretends to hate, but in truth loves. But he hardly practices with him anymore, rarely shows him his new jutsus or talks about his dreams. He often gets a faraway look in his eyes that Tobirama, at ten, doesn’t know what to make of.

 

He follows him out of the encampment even before their father orders him to do it and his brother doesn’t notice. He’s proud of that, proud of being the better in sensing, in spying out information. Though he doesn’t know what to make of what he finds, as he watches from a safe distance as Hashirama meets the other boy, the way they spar with each other then sit close together by the river, talking. He watches and in his stomach jealousy grows. This is the stuff he missed doing with his brother, who now wastes all his attention on a stranger.

 

He arrives home before Hashirama does. The older boy is so elated over the meeting with his secret friend that he doesn’t notice his disquiet. _Who is he and why is he more important than me?_ he wants to ask, but of course doesn’t.

 

He doesn’t tell their father about the boy until he orders him to.

 

He’s worried for Hashirama - he’s undeniably strong, but an Uchiha - _an Uchiha!_ \- deceived him. It’s lucky, he thinks, that father discovered his identity, and they can put an end to these stupid, secret meetings before anything bad happened. Then he’ll have his brother back finally, will have all his attention, can listen to his naive dreams about peace again and try to make him understand that to change the world, they need to put an end to the chaos that have taken it over, need to found rules and make people adhere to them. If he understood… he wouldn’t do anything like this again, making friend with an Uchiha and neglecting his own family for him.

 

When it’s over, and Uchiha Madara is - not killed, but at least gone from his brother’s life - and they are back in the encampment, Tobirama steps to the older boy to put a hand on his shoulder in a very adultish manner, though he wants to hug him. There’s a purplish bruise on Hashirama’s cheek, a reminder that father isn’t happy with what he did. Tobirama was relieved that he didn’t consider his brother a traitor as he threatened he’d do. Hashirama looks at him with obvious pain in his eyes.

 

“Everything is going to be all right,” he tries to reassure him.

 

“Tobirama, why…” Hashirama looks sideways, then closes his eyes. The younger boy doesn’t know what to do with his hurt. It’s a sudden realization that he doesn’t know what his brother feels or thinks, that maybe he never knew and that fills him with loneliness.

 

That sense of isolation remains in the upcoming years. They grow to be the best team together, he and his brother, but that feeling of closeness, that special link they used to share doesn’t want to reappear.

 

To keep up with him as much as he can, Tobirama spends all his spare time studying and inventing jutsus, drags him off to show them and practice them as much as he can.  Those occasions when Hashirama praises him or smiles at him with pride, he cherishes.

 

But they are at war constantly, so those times are rare. His brother rarely mentions peace to him any longer, and never when their father can overhear. He goes into battle with grim determination every time and wins all of them for the Senjus.

 

All of them but the ones they clash with the Uchiha. If father questions him why he still didn’t kill Madara, he just shrugs, saying “I can’t. We equal.”

 

Tobirama wonders if anyone but him knows that to be a lie.

 

As he grows older, he starts to understand his brother’s feelings more. The revelation comes when he’s expecting it the least; they are standing next to each other, facing the Uchiha clan, right before a clash. He glances up into Hashirama’s face and _sees_ how he looks at Madara. With desperation, with longing. With love.

 

He can’t sleep the night after that. He keeps tossing and turning on his tatami, thinking about this. Can a boy be in love with another boy? Can a Senju be in love with an Uchiha? It’s absurd, and it still makes terrible sense.

 

After this, he starts to have dreams about his brother. Innocent ones at first - Hashirama holding him in his arms, caressing his hair, saying he’s the most precious to him and promising he’ll there for him always.

 

He’s fourteen when  he first wakes with a hard-on, the image of Hashirama leaning above him and kissing him, like he’s only seen boys kiss girls before, still vivid in his mind.

 

He rolls off the mattress, falls on hands and knees, heaving, feeling like he’s about to throw up. They are still sharing a room, so Hashirama is next to him in an instant, asking if he had a bad dream. He nods shakily and lets himself be pulled close into a protective hug.

 

“That’s all right, little brother,” Hashirama tells him gently. His embrace feels so good, like old times. Like that, and absolutely not like that - Tobirama is keenly aware of his still hard prick and the reason for it, making him so embarrassed that he wants the earth to open up and swallow him. “It happens to all of us.” He doesn’t say that he very much doubts that, it’s better if his brother remains clueless.

 

There’s no turning back.

 

The dreams become regular after that. He often catches himself looking at his brother - not just watching his back or double checking what he does, as it started to be his habit. But also watch him when he’s undressing, getting ready to sleep, the sweat on the arch of his neck when they spar, the dimples in corners of his mouth when he smiles. He knows it to be wrong, he knows it to be sinful. He just can’t do anything more about it than keeping it close and making sure nobody suspects a thing.

 

In a year their father dies and Hashirama, at eighteen, is named as the new leader of the clan.

 

He gets terribly drunk that night. He does most things annoyingly loud, but getting drunk - he does that in silence, alone, trying to keep it in secret from Tobirama. The same sneaky way he acted when he was meeting with Uchiha Madara. And he fails again, the younger boy knows him too well.

 

“I didn’t think you’d be so upset over dad’s death,” he tells him grumpily, taking away the sake bottle despite his protests.

 

“Isn’t it damned funny that I’ll be the leader in his stead? Me, who he considered a traitor for years.”

 

“I’m not laughing.”

 

“You never laugh.”

 

“Give me the cup as well.”

 

“No,” he sticks out his tongue childishly. Tobirama has the urge to grab him by the collar and shake him, never mind that he’s three years older, half a head taller and the leader of their clan. “I’m celebrating.”

 

“Yeah, well. Congratulations.”

 

“I can make peace with the Uchiha now.”

 

He appears dead serious. Tobirama doesn’t tell him it’s nonsense, as there’s no point in arguing with a drunk. Hashirama lets him pull off his outer robes, put the alcohol out of arm's’ reach. He even lies down on his mattress when Tobirama urges him to.

 

He watches him sleep. It’s now only the two of them left, he thinks. All that remained of their family. Their mother, their two younger brothers are barely more than faded out memories now and soon the presence of their father will be gone too. He misses him. Hashirama and he were on terrible terms, but Tobirama got on better with him. They disagreed on many things, but still – he was their dad. He’s now an orphan at fifteen, and though shinobi should be prepared for being left alone, it’s still – bad. The urge to lie down next to Hashirama, to feel the heat coming from his body and be comforted by it is so strong that it’s almost painful. But he doesn’t. His brother is now the leader of the Senju - nobody but Tobirama can know that he’s not ready for such responsibility. He’ll need his support, his advices more than he ever did. He just can’t afford to give in to his urges. So he settles for pushing an unruly fringe of hair that fell in front his face before going to his own room for the night.

 

He never masturbates to thoughts about his brother.

 

It’s bad enough that the longing, the desire is there and he can’t get rid of it. He has to face it every day, has to hope that tomorrow it will be different, that at night he won’t be dreaming about him, that next morning will find him free of these forbidden wants.

 

But they never go away.

 

Just like Tobirama’s feelings towards him, Hashirama’s feelings towards Madara don’t waver at all. Don’t waver the slightest during the five bloody, grim years when he desperately tries to make peace with the Uchiha and fails to.

 

It’s the night of the battle when Tobirama wounds Uchiha Izuna - as it later will turn out, mortally - when he first kisses his brother.

 

It happens because Hashirama is so angry with him, for hurting his once-friend’s little brother. It infuriating, because it’s so hypocrite of him. They have killed countless foes before, the both of them, Uchihas just as many as anyone else. Taking down the second in command from the hostile clan is an accomplishment, not a sin. Hashirama knows this too.

 

He, at least, should know it.

 

Yet he looks at him with pain and disquiet in his eyes. With accusation.

 

That hurts as much as he’s the one who was impaled on a sword, a nasty feeling twisting his guts, equally made of jealousy, the love he feels and knows never to be requited, the frustration that Hashirama is so blindly led by his emotions when he forces himself every day to repress his owns. He represses them now too, until only the fury remains at the injustice. So of course they argue.

 

“Would you just give up on this ridiculous notion of peace?!” he snaps. “We won’t accomplish it until we conquer our enemies.”

 

“You can’t call it peace when we just kill everyone opposing. We have to come to terms…”

 

“You say that, but still kill those coming against you on the battlefield. Would you rather sacrifice our own people?”

 

“Don’t be so narrow-minded to think it has to be like that. We can change that. _I_ can change that!”

 

“He’s not your friend, he’s your enemy,” Tobirama snarls. To be excluded from _we_ twists his heart. It means Hashirama doesn’t need him and he wasn’t expecting such a sneak attack from him. “Just realize that already. There won’t be peace before you kill him.”

 

“You are wrong,” Hashirama whispers, pain evident on his face. “And I won’t kill him.”

 

“Then you’re not fit to lead the clan.”

 

Hashirama takes a step towards him in anger and Tobirama seriously expects a blow from him. There’s fear, fury, excitement and emotions he can’t name racing a mad race in his veins, making him act before thinking, although that’s something he always accuses his brother to do.

 

He closes the remaining space between them, grabs the front of his shirt and kisses him.

 

It’s actually more just the furious pressing of lips against lips, with a nibble of teeth. It lasts for three heartbeats the most. Hashirama doesn’t react, doesn’t move at all. When Tobirama steps back, he’s just standing there, gaping at him. There’s no anger in his glance any longer, there’s no disgust in it either, just plain incomprehension.

 

Tobirama sets his chin up and storms out without a word or a glance back. Once in his room he slides down next to the wall and buries his face in his hands.

 

Hashirama doesn’t mention this incident to him and of course he doesn’t bring it up either.

 

The next battle against the Uchiha is upon them soon enough and unexpectedly Hashirama can make his peace.

 

Tobirama is so close to kill that crazed Sharingan-user. He usually ends his opponents’ life with a cold heart. You can’t murder if you allow yourself to feel, that will consume you, but Madara’s death he wants. He wants to free his brother of his invisible but inexplicably strong hold. Wants to free himself too, as if by getting rid of the Uchiha, he could be free of his own misguided longings as well. This is both of their chances.

 

“This is the end,” he says out loud, just to be stopped.

 

“I won’t allow you to lay a hand on him,” Hashirama growls and it’s a tone he’s never heard and a look he’s never seen before, making Tobirama, for the first time in his life, afraid of him. He’s the ruler of life and death now, and he decided Madara to live. He stands in stunned silence as Hashirama bargains with the bastard, trying to convince him to join them. To trust him.

 

When Madara gives his terrible ultimatum there’s a moment when he thinks his own life is over.

 

“What do you plan to do, brother? Are you going to kill me?” he demands, because of the way Hashirama looked at him just seconds ago, the way he obviously chose Madara over him, he thinks the possibility real.

 

But Hashirama doesn’t appear to see or hear him. He has eyes and ears only for the beaten figure lying on the ground. He smiles when he takes off his armour. What he thinks will be his last words to him are a warning, not to kill Madara. To make peace with the Uchiha.

 

 _Farewell._  

 

It’s Madara who stops him, while Tobirama just stands there, stunned to the point where his muscles no longer obey to his command to _do something._

 

He didn’t cry since he was eight and first killed a man, but he does again the night after this battle. It’s the fury at Uchiha Madara, the anger at his own inability to change his and his brother’s fate for the better, anger at Hashirama for his crazy choice and relief also, that he’s still alive. He keeps it quiet, head hanged low, biting down on his hand so no sound emerges, so Hashirama in the next room won’t hear. Part of him wants to be found like this, to be comforted just as he was when they were kids. To be reassured that he’s important too.

 

Hashirama is so high on his happiness that he probably wouldn’t hear him even if he was bawling like a baby, so it’s the best if he saves his dignity and keeps quiet.

 

The pact is made and peace is signed. What he thought impossible starts be reality. He has to acknowledge that Hashirama is capable of more than he ever thought. He’s proud of him and it also makes him feel that he’s not as needed as he used to be, so he tries to make it damn sure that he’s there when decisions are made. After all, his brother is an idealist, and they can’t build the village on his dreams only.

 

He also wants to be there to minimize the time his brother spends alone with Madara, though he doesn’t like to acknowledge this, even to himself.

 

Hashirama, who can be open to the point where he appears dim, knows how to keep secrets from him if it’s about Madara. Tobirama can’t tell for sure what’s going on between them. He’s afraid that the Uchiha bastard will use his brother’s affection. Will use to hurt him, to earn himself privileges, who knows. He wouldn’t put past anything to him.

 

That’s why he catches them, standing too close on the plain above the village. He can’t hear what they are talking about, but can read their body languages. The way Madara raises the broken leaf in front of his eyes, the way he ducks his head sideways, looking up at the taller man, with an almost-slime on his pale lips. He appears more relaxed than Tobirama has ever seen him. And Hashirama - he looks so happy, as carefree as he was at thirteen, coming back from their stupid little secret meetings. That almost makes Tobirama turn back and go away. _Almost._ They don’t even notice him, they are so caught up in whatever they’re discussing. Caught up in looking at each other…

 

“So you were here,” his voice rings out loud and clear. “Why are you idling over there?”

 

The spell is broken. Madara steps away from his brother and spits _Tobirama._  It’s for the best, there’s no reason for him to feel bad about it.

 

As it turns out he arrived just in time to prevent Hashirama naming the Uchiha the head of village without asking anyone’s opinion, so that nasty, shameful feeling in the pit of his stomach doesn’t linger for long.

 

They have an argument over it. Lifting the fog from before Hashirama’s eyes is close to impossible. He doesn’t see Madara as Tobirama does, _the way he really is._

 

“He’ll never be chosen as head,” he tries and fails to keep his voice calm. “Everybody knows - you were the one who founded the village!”

 

Hashirama looks both angry and sad. There’s a furrow between his brows and the corners of his mouth are turned down. Like this he resembles their father, something he doesn’t, when smiling. Tobirama wants to ease those lines off his face, wants to see him happy. But he has to be firm on this, he can’t afford Uchiha Madara to ruin Hashirama’s life and rule everyone else’s.

 

“The more they are full of hatred, the more their eyes are powerful. That’s how the Sharingan works. You can never know what they are going to do.” _You can’t trust him brother, don’t you see? You can deceive yourself that he’s your friend and cares for you, but it will end badly. I’m your blood and I’m here for you._

 

Uchihas are sneaky bastards, but this time it actually works for his favour.They both know it’s Madara who spies out their conversation, even if he’s not lying when he says that he didn’t sense him.

 

Hashirama picks up the leaf with the hole through it and it breaks apart, the top half gliding down the roof, where the wind picks it up and carries it away. Hashirama, as if his resistance is gone with it too, quietly agrees to his methods, while he follows the piece of leaf with a disturbed glance.

 

He is of course elected to be the Hokage. It’s not long after that when Madara leaves the village.

 

Hashirama comes to him. That pleases him, but the pain etched on his face and the empty look of his eyes scare him.

 

“He’s gone, Tobirama. He’s gone. He left Konoha. And I… I couldn’t stop him.”

 

“That’s for the best, brother…” he crouches down in front of the chair he’s sitting in to try to catch his glance. “From what you say he rejected what you built here, rejected his own kin…”

 

“It was _our_ dream,” Hashirama mutters, looking through him. “I fought for so many years to create it, for peace… to have him by my side.”

 

“Well, apparently it meant nothing for him,” Tobirama spits. Pain twists his heart, but he ignores it. _To have him by his side. Is he the only one who matters?_ “You have the people to protect here. The village, the clan. You still have me.”

 

“Everything seems so meaningless without him.”

 

He curls his fingers around his shoulders, nails digging in. He wants to shake him, to scream at him for dismissing him now, just as he always dismissed him in favour of Madara.

 

“How can that cold-hearted bastard be more important than everyone else?!” he demands. “How can you always chose him before me?!”

 

Hashirama grabs his wrist and now looks really at him. His eyes are cold as steel.

 

“Ironic how he accused me that I’d always favour you over him.”

 

They stare at each other. Tobirama wonders what his brother can read on his face now, because for once he can’t keep his emotions disguised. He wonders if he hates him for them. He can’t tell. As if their roles are reversed, Hashirama is the one who’s cold and closed up now.

 

In the end he just walks out of Tobirama’s house without another word.

 

He knows that Uchiha Madara couldn’t have been more wrong. Hashirama would never love anyone as much as he loves him. That he would have killed him that day on the battlefield, that he’d kill him now under the pretext of doing it for peace, if Madara ordered him to.

 

But he didn’t, so life in Konoha goes on without him.

 

Hashirama smiles considerably less, but he also becomes noticeably more dutiful, even if he finds too many occasions to drink a cup of sake of two.

 

Tobirama is harsher on him than he ever was. It serves a double purpose: his brother needs enough tasks on his hands to keep his mind off Madara. It’s also revenge on him, for putting him, as always, only second in his heart.

 

“I think it’s time we look for a suitable wife for you,” he tells him one day when they stay long in the office. Hashirama is just fiddling with his papers, while Tobirama helps him to get through them faster, pretending he isn’t double checking what his brother does.

 

Hashirama stars at the scroll in front of him a long while before he looks up.

 

“Why now?”

 

“You are twenty-seven. How long do you want to delay it?”

 

Hashirama sighs and looks out the window. Lights are blinking up in the village below, but he’s not looking at the houses, but stares above them, at the dark forest surrounding Konoha.

 

 _He’s not coming back. Accept it._ Tobirama resists pointing out. He waits impatiently until his brother looks back at him. “It’s expected of you,” he states instead calmly. “There’s not a single clan leader who wouldn’t be out of his mind with joy if you asked for his daughter's hand, so we won’t have a difficult time.”

 

“I’ll just go along with whoever you pick, brother.”

 

“I thought you’d want someone you fancy.”

 

“Tobirama, do we really have to do this? I mean - this pretending. You know very well that I’ll hardly find any girl I _fancy.”_

 

“As the leader of the shinobi of this country, you have to be the master of deception as much as the master of everything else.”

 

“Can’t we at least be honest with each other?”

 

“Believe me brother, you don’t want me to be honest with you,” he snaps, angry with such talk. Hashirama just looks at him with an unreadable expression before he looks back down to his scroll.

 

“So, who’s your best suggestion?”

 

“The Uzumaki heiress.”

 

“That’s fine. I’ll marry her.”

 

Everything goes smoothly, the proposal is accepted, and the preparations of the marriage don’t have a single glitch.

 

He expects some objections from Hashirama, but he just smiles emptily at his fiancée whenever they are together and nods at everything that’s suggested about the ceremony.

 

So without having to focus on keeping him on line, Tobirama is left with too much time alone with his own doubts. This is for the best, he tells himself again and again. Things will finally be _normal._ Hashirama can get Madara out of his mind, and he… he can get Hashirama out of his. Feel nothing more towards him than a brother should. He can put some distance between them, now that Madara isn’t here, forcing him to intervene all the time. He can look for a wife for himself too, maybe.

 

He manages to fool himself during the days, but at nights he still dreams about his brother.

 

The evening before his marriage, he kisses Hashirama for the second time.

 

Hashirama comes to him, wide eyed and upset, the calm face he’s been wearing lost and deep inside Tobirama is happy to see that. He hates that blank mask, it’s so unfitting his brother, no matter how many times he berated him for being unable to keep it in place.

 

“Tobirama… I think this was a bad idea. I can’t possibly marry Mito.”

 

“It’s way too late to back out now, brother,” he’s so much better with his own act, appearing calm and strict, while he tends to agree with him. He puts his hand on his shoulder and looks into his dark eyes. They are so expressive, emotions shining way too openly in them, no wonder that Uchiha bitch could play with his heart so easily. “And of course you can marry her. It’s such a small sacrifice for the good of our people.”

 

“Brother…” he shrugs his hand off, stepping away. “On some days it seems so pointless. Being the Hokage, acting for the good of the village.”

 

“Stop being so selfish,” Tobirama snaps, hurt despite himself. “How can you put one person, and your petty little feelings above what’s the interest of the ally of clans? This was your dream,” his voice shakes just a bit with bubbling anger, “now be ready to make sacrifices for it! Wasn’t it why you made peace with the Uchiha? What you fought for all along?”

 

“This was our dream… Madara’s and mine…”

 

“Forget that stupid notion already! The Leaf is what _you_ achieved! Now endure for it! Be the leader they can look up to.”

 

“Someone who denies his own emotions?”

 

“Yes, if he needs to.”

 

“Like you do?”

 

It’s provocation and combined with his fury and his not-so deeply hidden fear that with this marriage they will drift even further apart that makes Tobirama act reckless. He doesn’t even realize when he steps so close to his brother, grabs both of his shoulders and smashes his lips angrily against his.

 

Hashirama raises his hand, whether to pull him close or shove him away, it never turns out as he just drops it back, to hang limply by his side, so it has to be Tobirama who breaks the kiss.

 

“Here, you wanted to see my emotions, brother?” he hisses. His face must be red, but he looks Hashirama in the eye. He finds sadness there, which is hard to bear, but it’s still better than pity or disgust.

 

‘I’m sorry.”

 

“What are you sorry for?” he wants to turn away, but Hashirama pulls him back, so for once, he allows the luxury of weakness and leans his forehead against the other’s shoulder. It feels good to be this close.

 

“For everything?” Hashirama more asks than states, patting his back in a way that can be anything from an awkward caress to an aborted hug. Tobirama laughs shakily.

 

“Just… go and marry that woman tomorrow. Please.”

 

“I think we should talk about this.”

 

“No, brother. This is one of the things we _do not_ talk about.”

 

“There seems to be an increasing number of them.”

 

Next day the wedding is held and they both play their role as expected.

 

Three weeks later Madara attacks the Leaf for the first time.

 

When Hashirama returns, bruised and with an empty look in his eyes, Tobirama waits for him outside the gates.

 

“Have you killed him?” he questions.

 

“I couldn’t,” comes the answer. “We equal.”

 

He doesn’t believe him any more than he did when they were kids.

 

In the next two years the Uchiha attacks five times. It’s always Hashirama who fights him, alone. If Tobirama joined him, maybe he’d win. But this is something he needs to settle alone. To set his priorities straight finally, so the younger man doesn’t push it, though he worries for his safety - mental as much as physical - every time.

 

When he returns from their last fight, he’s hardly recognisable. Not because he’s wet to the bones, skin and tattered clothes smeared and plastered to his body with rain, mud and blood, not even for his serious injuries, but for his expression. He looks at Tobirama as if he doesn’t recognise him at all.

 

He helps to peel off his clothing and to wash him down.

 

“Why don’t you heal yourself?” he asks, patting the blood off from his badly burnt left arm.

 

“I hardly have the chakra left for it,” Hashirama answers absently. He’s staring ahead, unflinching though surely it hurts like hell, eyes set on something only he can see.

 

“You had to do it,” Tobirama says quietly.

 

“Yes. I made my choice.”

 

“You had to. In a couple of months your child will be born. You had to protect him,” Mito has a large belly already and a very difficult pregnancy that bounds her to bed for the majority of her days. That’s why Tobirama is the one doing this, cleaning and bandaging his brother, at least that’s what he told everyone.

 

Hashirama looks at him with such hatred in his eyes that his heart almost breaks of it.

 

“I did it for the village. I told him - I’d kill anyone who tries to harm it, not just him, but my own children too. My own brother too. That’s what I live for now. And I won’t forgive anyone who opposes me on that.”

 

His dead eyes drill into Tobirama’s and against his will, he takes a step back. He can’t deny it - he’s afraid of Hashirama right now. Once before he thought him capable of killing him. But right now - right now he’d do it without a second thought, without shedding a single tear over it.

 

“How did you kill him?” he whispers, not even knowing why he asks it. Hashirama pulls one corner of his lips upwards into what can’t be called a smile by any measure.

 

“From behind. I got into his back and run my sword through him. He didn’t even see it coming.”

 

He closes the space between them, and unable to help himself, Tobirama backs a few more steps away, before he stops and stands his ground. Hashirama is right in his face, grabbing the back of his neck. His warm breath puffs against his cheeks. It smells like blood. His face is a mask of pain and fury.

 

“Do you also want to hear, brother, how he crumbled to the ground? He looked so pathetic, just a broken doll,” he is so close that his lips almost brush against the younger Senju’s. His body is hot, burning up. He must have fever. He needs to drink water, his wounds need to be treated and he has to lie down to sleep. Tobirama wants to tell him this, but doesn’t manage to utter a sound. “He fell into a puddle. He looked so _small._ Not the great warrior he pretended to be. Just an ordinary man, bleeding to death. Just like anyone looks at the moment of their last heartbeat. Does it please you, brother? Do you regret that you weren’t there to see and gloat? Would it have filled you with satisfaction?” His burnt left hand, the one that’s not holding Tobirama’s head in a death grip reaches out and caresses his face. It’s terrible, because he wanted to stand like this, to be close like this so many times, but _not like this_ at all still _._ He wants Hashirama to cry, to shout at him, to hit him, anything but this.

 

“Stop,” he whispers. “I know it must be hard for you…”

 

“You know nothing, brother.”

 

He turns away and doesn’t say anything else to him that evening.

 

Next day he apologises, and the younger man waves it away, saying that fatigue makes anyone act foolishly. It’s not about that and they both know it, but Tobirama rather wants to pretend it never happened.

 

The upcoming year is hard on both of them. There are days when he’s seriously worried for his brother. Drinking and gambling - they are something he’s indulged from time to time, but never to this extent before. Obviously nobody is going to say no to the Hokage, so it’s left to Tobirama to try to keep him in check, even if it makes him feel like Hashirama’s keeper most of the time, but there’s no helping that. Even his daughter’s birth lifts his spirits only for a few days.

 

He wonders what Mito thinks of this. If she suspects the reason for her husband’s mood. He can’t decide what would be worse, if she’s clueless, or if she knows his heart is breaking over the man he killed.

 

The worst by any means comes on the Kage gathering, where Hashirama _cries_ in front of the other leaders. And tries to cast away the bijuus.

 

Tobirama spends a sleepless night after this, wondering if using his new technique, Edo Tensei, might do his brother any good. Would bringing back Madara, if only in a false, stolen body, animated by him, do him any good. In the end he decides against, fearing that it would just cause more harm. And he doesn’t think he can stomach seeing the Uchiha again.

 

On a stormy night, exactly when a year passed since Madara’s death, Hashirama comes to him.

 

It’s raining heavily just as it did a year ago. Tobirama is painfully aware of the importance of the day, and decides to leave his brother space. He worries for him of course, stares out at the window and wonders how he’s faring. That’s why he sees him standing in the downpour outside, before he can knock.

 

He lets him in. Hashirama stands in his room awkwardly, water dripping from his hair, his clothes, pooling at his feet while the white haired man grabs him some towels and dry clothes.

 

“Take these off before you catch your death,” he mutters when Hashirama just stares at them lost, as if unsure what they are for. He takes one from his hands, and starts to rub his hair dry. Hashirama lets him, he doesn’t do anything else, just stands there and watches him. From so close it is very disturbing, but he tries to act unbothered. After a bit of hesitation, he loosens his brother’s robes and they fall heavily and wetly at their feet. There’s no sign of last year’s battle on his body of course, his healing power took care of the scars long ago.

 

Wounds of the heart are another matter.

 

He maybe idles more than he should, as he slides the towel on firm muscles, broad shoulders and powerful arms. He definitely shouldn’t slide it lower, onto the taut stomach, even if he makes sure to wear a detached expression, pretending he’s just mopping up the wetness from tanned skin there too.

 

When his brother touches his face, he drops the piece of cloth guilty.

 

 _Don’t!_ he wants to whisper when Hashirama leans close, but words fail him. So he just stands there, transfixed even when there’s no space left between their bodies, when he can feel the other’s breath on his lips, like he did a year ago, but it doesn’t smell like blood this time…

 

Then, for the first time, his brother kisses him.

 

It’s not like those two times he did before, furious and desperate, but slow and sensual. There’s a question behind it, giving chance for Tobirama to say no. And he should. But he won’t.

 

They don’t talk. He’s full of questions he doesn’t ask. _Why are you doing this, why now of all time, and what do you mean by it?_ Hashirama watches him closely, his every reaction. The way he arches under his caresses, leans into his kisses.

 

Tobirama had lovers before, not many, and nothing lasting. He’s never been with a man before, because that just - never seemed right. Hashirama’s touches are confident. _He learned everything he knows with Madara,_ the thought comes and with it burning jealousy bubbles up in the pit of his stomach. Even if he can’t know whether he’s right, can’t be sure if anything like this ever happened between them, and he’ll never ask.

 

That feeling is gone when they are both undressed and stumble to his bed. Hashirama kneels between his spread thighs and he lifts his hips, entwining his legs around the other's waist. It hurts when his brother slowly pushes into his body, but he doesn’t mind. It fits this painful, sinful love he’s been nourishing for so long. Hashirama gasps into his mouth when he pulls his head down for another kiss. He’s moving gently, way to gently, so Tobirama tries to urge him with meeting his thrusts with his own movements. He clasps his fingers with his brother’s as they pick up tempo. His other hand touches his face. Hashirama opens his lids and looks at him, his eyes dark and passionate. He looks at him and _sees_ him, and that’s what he needs. He couldn’t bear if Hashirama was thinking of... _somebody else._

 

“Brother,” he whispers, breaking the silence. Hashirama kisses him again, moving inside him. Finally he feels as close to him as he always wanted to be, with no space for any shadow to stand between them.

 

His orgasm builds slowly, and he’s almost sorry when he reaches his peak. He’d rather live this moment forever. His fingers dig into Hashirama’s neck and he has to close his eyes to be able to bear the rush of pleasure. He keeps the other man close, leaning above him until he finds his release inside his body in slow, deep pulses.

 

Hashirama stays the night in his bed. He falls asleep quickly, his breathing slow and even. Tobirama just stares at him in the darkness of the room. _What have we done?_ he thinks and tries to find the appropriate horror in himself. He should wake him up, tell him to go home before his wife starts to worry for him. They should forget this as soon as possible or at least pretend it never happened.

 

He too falls asleep at one point as he wakes at dawn with a crick in his neck. Hashirama is still next to him, and quite probably awake too, but he doesn’t open his eyes to check. He wishes he’d just get up and go away, to leave him alone with his gnawing doubts, shame and the pains of his body.

 

“Tobirama?” Hashirama calls out to him softly, but he doesn’t react, just listens to him sighing and shifting in the bed. _Just go,_ he urges him silently.

 

He should know his brother better than that.

 

When he leans over him and blows air into his ear, Tobirama sits up so suddenly that the older Senju has to jerk back to avoid knocking skull against chin.

 

“Are you completely crazy?” he growls, but his brother just grins, as if everything is alright, as if he isn’t completely naked as he kneels on the bed, as if Tobirama isn’t nude either under the cover. He looks away and Hashirama sighs.

 

Then he shifts closer, sitting astride the younger man’s thighs, putting his hands on his shoulders, leaving him no choice but to look at him again.

 

“What are you…?”

 

“Brother,” Hashirama interrupts him, now looking serious. “Do you really want to go and pretend nothing happened?”

 

“What else can we do,” he snaps, but doesn’t find the strength to push him away. “Don’t be such a fool. We should have never done this.”

 

“So you want to feign as you did in all your life?” that’s a mean attack and he wasn’t really expecting such insight from him. But if anyone knows him, it’s Hashirama.

 

“What else is left to do?”

 

“We can, at least, find a degree of happiness,” his brother says with a sad smile and caresses his face.

 

 _A degree of happiness._ That doesn’t sound much, though admittedly it’s more than nothing. He’s unable to resist though. At least when he’s in his arms, he can pretend Hashirama feels anything close to what he feels.

 

In a few weeks he can look Mito in the eye again. She doesn’t appear to suspect anything, or maybe she just doesn’t care. She must be used to never having the chance to hold her husband’s love.

 

Of course nobody can compete with a dead man. Madara will always occupy Hashirama’s heart, staying there, aggressively claiming it even from behind the grave. But time takes away the edge of the pain at least. Hashirama smiles more, works with determination on making Konoha as much a safe haven as it’s possible in the mad world of shinobi. Tobirama helps him. He’s good at setting the rules, founding the base, seeing the reality in the dreams of his brother. He’s the second in command, his advisor, his brother.

 

And his lover.

 

Pretending comes with guilty ease. Tobirama is too weak to resist and Hashirama obviously doesn’t want to resist at all.

 

For a while he continues to feel the shame over the sheer wrongness of what they are doing. Wanting it was bad enough, but not is his wildest dreams did he consider acting on it. Leave it to his brother to change that - he won’t overthink, not even something like this.

 

He acts as if it isn’t unnatural, isn’t sinful. As he can’t possibly resist, for his sanity Tobirama starts to play along.

 

It’s the night when Hashirama straddles his thighs and rides his length when he gives in fully. Previously it was always his brother taking him and this new change in roles confuses Tobirama at first. But the pleasure of it soon chases everything else from his mind. He rolls on top of Hashirama and he lets him fuck him, deeply and roughly. Dominating the older man is something that he wants, a yearning he so far kept hidden in a dark corner of his heart. To be able to do it breaks some barrier inside him as he holds down the other, bites him, grabs him so roughly that it leaves marks on his body. Lust mixes with his pent up frustration, the hurt he’s been nurturing for so long, the anger he feels over Hashirama’s choices, his jealousy over Madara, over the power his brother holds, his stupid, dangerous choices, the way he never really appreciated him, no matter that he does everything for him…

 

Hashirama takes it without complaint, embraces him close when he comes with a shout, pets his back and pretends not to notice his tears as he collapses on top of him.

 

After this, he manages to find some wicked pleasure in their secret. There are days when he looks at the men bowing low before his brother and finds himself thinking, _what would you say if you knew he was kneeling before me yesterday, sucking my cock? That he was writhing under me in pleasure?_ He always hides his smile behind his hand. Of course they’ll never suspect a thing. And it’s enough that he knows.

 

There comes a period they never lived before - the time of peace.

 

They build a well-working system together with Hashirama, one that ensures the superiority of Konoha over the other shinobi villages for the upcoming two decades. They train the children from a tender age, but don’t send them into battle too early. Life expectancy increases, civilians move to the Leaf in greater numbers too, as they don’t have to fear that being close to shinobi will lead to their early death as well.

 

Tobirama chooses a few apprentices to train. The best of them, talented children from well-respected clans, and he finds he enjoys teaching them what he knows. He learns to like them and feel pride over them.

 

“Have you thought about finding a wife?” Mito asks him one day when he’s been invited over to dinner. Tobirama carefully chews and swallows the bite in his mouth before answering. She appears innocent enough, so he’s safe to assume she doesn’t mean anything more by it than she said out loud.

 

“Maybe,” he replies at long last. “When I’ll have the time for marriage. I always seem to have my hands full.”

 

“You’re so good with the Sarutobi boy and the others. Wouldn’t you want children of your own?” her smile if just a bit painful. She and Hashirama have one daughter. She had a second pregnancy, but she delivered the little boy dead and if it wasn’t for Hashirama she’d have died too. And the Kyuubi sealed inside her would have broken free.

 

Tobirama never asks his brother if he still lies with her as he’d rather not think about it at all. All he can be sure of that they never had another child after that.

 

“She’s right, brother,” Hashirama says with a mean little smile only he can see. “Don’t you think it’s due time?”

 

He laughs about it later, when it’s only the two of them and Tobirama demands if he _wants_ him to get married.

 

“Would it change anything between us?” he questions, caressing his face.

 

“No,” the younger man admits.

 

“Then I don’t care.”

 

He never asks if Hashirama has other lovers next to him. He doesn’t have anyone else. It’s because it’s quite a challenge to keep it in secret as it is. But more so, because he doesn’t wants anyone else, not really.

 

He never gets married.

 

Time flies. Maybe it’s natural when someone lives in peace. How could he know, it never happened to him before. He learns how to be content with what he has over the years. Some things are never to change; his love for his brother, his brother’s love for Madara. The unspoken tension between them this causes. He learns to live with it, he makes himself believe that Hashirama needs him, to carry on with his life, to lead the village, to make the right decisions and his brother never tells him he’s wrong. There’s a certain quietude to be found in routine. All in all, he can be satisfied with his fate.

 

When Hashirama announces he’s going to be a grandfather, he just blinks at him in surprise. _How is that even possible?_

 

“You’re fifty-two,” he says out loud.

 

“Yes, thank you for pointing it out. In a year you’ll turn fifty as well. There’s no escaping time.”

 

Tobirama rolls to his side to take a good look at him - they are in his bed, still sweaty after sex. There are maybe a few wrinkles in the corners of his dark eyes that didn’t used to be there, a line between his eyebrows and in the corners of his mouth. But it’s hard to believe he’ll be a grandfather soon and he says so. His glance still has the usual youthful glint, he smiles easily, and his muscles are still hard thanks to the daily training sessions they always hold.

 

“Well, I’m not old yet,” Hashirama laughs. When Tobirama just hmm-s doubtfully, he rolls on top of him, to rub his hardening prick against his thigh. “Let me show you how young I’m still,” he whispers on a husky tone that never fails to send a thrill down the white haired man’s spine.

 

They are given five more years of peace.

 

Hashirama’s daughter dies while giving birth for her second child. They are away from the village at the time, negotiating with the other Kages who are quite probably forming a pact against the Leaf. By the time Hashirama arrives home, there’s nothing he could do.

 

While it’s mostly Mito taking care of the newborn boy, Hashirama does all he can to cheer up his granddaughter. Her father died not long ago, before Nawaki was born, and now she’s left an orphan.

 

Hashirama doesn’t lack enthusiasm in dealing with little Tsunade, but he rather lacks sense. If it wasn’t for Tobirama’s supervision, he’d shower her in everything she wants, never even thinking about saying no to the unreasonable demands of a four years old.  And even with the younger man berating him when he catches him teaching her card games and the like, he spoils her terribly.

 

Not that he can’t understand him.

 

And he doesn’t have the time to stand and watch over his back anyhow, not with the increasing number of fights breaking out at the Land of Fire. They know the other countries are behind it, even without solid proof. The question is what to do - pretend peace still exists or counterattack.

 

“It was to be expected,” he tells his upset brother. “We forced our will on them for long enough - we should have shown more of our strength. Now they think we’ve gone weak and they can break free.”

 

“Haven’t we done all to settle their disquiet? We shaped this new world to please every nation as much as it was possible. Why would they want to start war again?”

 

“You and I brother - we have lived in war. But there’s a new generation, thanks to you, who doesn’t remember the horror of it. And maybe the old have forgotten it too. Maybe they were always dreaming about striking us down and now they think we went soft enough to be able to do it.”

 

Most battles they win easily. Hashirama is there wherever he can be, and while it might be wiser to stay behind for the Hokage, Tobirama understands his reason and doesn’t try to hold him back.

 

If he won’t fight for his dream, what was it all worth? He just tries to be near him and watch his back.

 

Like old times.

 

Though time and peace undoubtedly left their marks on them, they are still the strongest of pair. Their enemies have to realize this as well, as they try with increasingly desperate methods to end Hashirama’s life. He’s close to sixty, but still nobody can match his might, not in an honest battle. The assassination attempts against him fail one by one.

 

Tobirama should be prepared that they will come against him with even more cunning, something specially created to defeat him. He should be prepared, he is always prepared. But he can’t really believe that anyone is able to seriously harm his brother, the _god of shinobi._ So in the end he fails in his vow to protect him no matter what.

 

They walk into the trap, knowing it’s there, but thinking it will be nothing but a nuisance.

 

Later, Tobirama will never be able to recall what exactly happens. The healers tell him that it was poison, of the rarest and most expensive kind, that slowed them down and dampened their power.

 

All he knows is that his head is blurry and his whole body is thrumming with agony when he comes to himself. _Why am I not dead?_ he thinks, not even sure why he should be. It takes him a few more heartbeats - fast and irregular as they are - to recognize the healing chakra of Hashirama flowing into him. He opens his eyes.

 

His brother is kneeling next to him, his face ashen grey, concentration and pain etched on his features.

 

“What happened?” Tobirama croaks. “Are you alright?” because he doesn’t look as if he is.

 

“We defeated them, but… we should have been more cautious. You have a serious injury.”

 

“And you?”

 

“Don’t worry about me. Just rest now. You’re going to live.”

 

Tobirama closes his eyes and almost sinks back to unconsciousness. But just almost. That phrase, _you’re going to live_ keeps him at his senses. He turns it around in his mind, feeling something is not quite right about it. _You’re going to…_

 

He sits up suddenly, knocking Hashirama’s hand away, ignoring the searing pain that bites into him at the movement. Then for a long moment he just stares horror-stricken at his brother. His clothes are soaked in blood, his left hand, the one he hasn’t been healing Tobirama with, clutching his own left side below the sword sticking out of him. He’s not concentrating any chakra there, it’s nothing more than any injured men clutching their mortal wound despite how futile it is, as if it would stop the flow of their blood.

 

“Lie back,” Hashirama tells him quietly. “The gash on your chest is not completely closed yet. Such sudden moves and it’ll open again.”

 

“Forget about that!” the younger man snaps. “Are you out of your mind? Why don’t you heal yourself first?!”

 

“Tobirama…” his cold hand flutters up, as if to touch his face, but the white haired Senju knocks it away.

 

“Heal yourself,” he demands.

 

“I can’t. We weren’t careful enough. I’m not sure of the technique they used but… now I don’t have enough power left to heal the both of us.”

 

They stare at each other in silence for too long when with each passing moment his brother gets closer to death.

 

“Don’t talk nonsense,” he whispers at last. “I’m all right now. Start on your own wound finally.”

 

“No, you’re not. There’s poison in your veins still that can easily kill you. I’m getting you rid of it.”

 

“No…”

 

“Brother. Please. Just let me do what I want for once, without argument. I’ve made my choice. I want to heal you. I want you to live.”

 

“You choose to die.”

 

“I’m not afraid of death.”

 

Neither is Tobirama, but there’s more to it, he’s sure of it. Dangerous as their enemies’ technique might be, he’s sure Hashirama could have avoided it. Of the flashes he remembers he can’t be sure whether they are real memories or just the game of his tired mind. But he can’t help but feel that the choice his brother is talking about is not whether he or Tobirama should live. If he _chose to live,_ both of them could survive.

 

Despite the bone-deep exhaustion he feels he tries to struggle him, to force him somehow to treat his own injuries. He stops when Hashirama uses his wood technique to hold him down, as it eats up his precious remaining life force quicker.

 

“I’m sorry,” Hashirama says to him, when he sees the tears that sweep out, as he can’t wipe them off due to the vines holding down his wrists. He doesn’t reply - it’s not something he could ever forgive, but there’s no use in saying that.

 

He’s getting noticeably paler with every passing minute, even his lips are greying out. For the first time ever he looks his age. Tobirama on the other hand is getting rapidly better. Just a bit more and he can try to break free…

 

But in the end he doesn’t need to try - Hashirama withdraws the restrictions himself. With a tired sigh he grabs the handle of the blade that’s stuck in him and pulls it out from his flesh before Tobirama could stop him. Blood so dark that he can’t even call it red gushes forth. The younger man is next to him in an instant, trying to stop it with his hands, even if he knows it’s in vain, but he’ll bleed to death in no time like this…

 

“You damned fool,” he gasps, though the words come from somewhere far, from behind the terrible, unbearable pain that grasps his heart in an iron grip.

 

“I’m really sorry, little brother,” Hashirama smiles at him faintly. “But this is my time to go.”  He closes his eyes and would crumble to the ground if Tobirama wasn’t there to catch him. He’s now gasping for air and shaking just slightly. There’s no longer any sense in demanding him to save himself, in cursing or pleading him, so Tobirama just shifts until he can hold him in his arms and cradle him close to his chest. Heavy as it is, his own useless heart now beats steadily, healthily, while his brother’s gets closer and closer to its last weak flutter.

 

He touches his face and caresses it and Hashirama opens his eyes and smiles at him. Raises his own blood-stained hand to return the gesture.

 

“Please continue after me,” he asks him quietly. “You’ll be the Hokage. Do what is the best for the village, for its people.”

 

“You can’t just name me like that,” he denies. “Why do I have to tell you this again?”

 

“My little brother. You’ll be so much better at it than I ever was.”

 

“How could I be? This was your dream. How could I do it without you?”

 

“No, it wasn’t just mine.”

 

“Do you think you’ll see him again now?” It’s a painful question and he wishes he never asked it. Hashirama doesn’t answer for so long that he thinks that he didn’t hear him.

 

“I dread that as much as I long for it,” a single tear rolls from the corner of his eye. Tobirama wipes it away.

 

 _He never deserved you. How can you, even now, choose him over me?_ the question is on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t want to waste their last minutes together on Madara.

 

“I love you,” he says instead, and before his brother’s heart stops, kisses him for one last time.

 

He doesn’t know how long he stays there. The ground drinks all the blood that poured onto it and Hashirama’s body goes cold in his arms before he can gather the will to stand up and carry him back to the village.

 

Everyone is upset over his death and Tobirama selfishly loathes them for it. He feels nobody has as much right to mourn his brother as he does.

 

Danzo is the first one to call him the Second, even before the official voting takes place where he’s named the next Hokage. He rolls it around in his mind and likes the sound of it. The title seems to fit him perfectly, he, the man who’d always been the second in so many things. In birth, in rank and power after his brother in the clan, in the place he held in Hashirama’s heart in all his life.

**FIN**

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I consider this the best, and at the same time the most horrible thing I ever wrote. I tore this up from some deep and dark part of my heat, was painful as fuck. Comments, reviews would be much appreciated.


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